


I Carry Your Heart

by Onlymystory



Series: Courage Don't Desert Me [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Historical Inaccuracy, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Mostly Fluff, So Married, these two are so in love it's ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymystory/pseuds/Onlymystory
Summary: 5 times Joe was a poetic bastard and one time Nicky was.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Courage Don't Desert Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865062
Comments: 52
Kudos: 819





	I Carry Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> These are not in order. Also, this is the first time where I didn’t feel like I had to stretch it to find enough examples for a 5+1 in any fandom. It was more narrowing it down because lbr, Joe (as a canon poet and artist) has probably said this shit A LOT.  
> There are no doubt historical inaccuracies in several of these but I tried to make sure it was along the lines of oh they probably wouldn’t have slept in a tent, not this literally didn’t exist for another 300 years.  
> I fudged the dream thing a bit to serve my purposes. They stop dreaming about each other when they meet or stop killing each other.  
> Have you heard Luca singing yet? Because OH. MY. DAMN.
> 
> Title from ee cummings because well, why the hell not.

**1) 1596: England**

“Do you ever stop writing plays, William?” asks Joe. “It makes you very dull company.”

“Be nice,” admonishes Nicky, though he smiles up at Joe as he gently scolds. Nicky watches as Joe ignores him for a moment, sketching furiously across the pages that sit on the little table next to him. He had wanted to paint, but Nicky had wanted to nap in the sunshine. 

They compromised with Nicky napping in Joe’s lap so that Joe could paint his favorite subject.

Even William briefly looks their way before Joe even hints at glancing away from his work. Nicky pushes himself up off the grass slightly and tangles a hand in Joe’s hair, proving a good distraction for a moment as they kiss, before Joe gives him a pleading look and Nicky releases him to continue his portrait. 

He would tease about being the only subject of Joe’s work, but his heart thrills every single time Joe asks to sketch or paint him. He could never tease about being so loved.

William sighs. “Would that I could write a play that the people would appreciate. I must find new patrons in order to continue to afford this life.”

“As long as it’s better than the last one,” says Nicky. “That was so dull it would put a monk to sleep.”

“This one is of lovers, tragically forced apart by their families, who seek each other over all manner of familial obligation or societal expectation,” insists William.

Joe snorts and rolls his eyes at Nicky. Nicky laughs quietly. Indeed, how completely original, wherever did he come up with the idea of lovers that society would not approve of?

William moans in exaggerated despair. 

“What?” asks Joe, his annoyance evident. It might be time to move on soon, no matter how lovely the gardens here. 

“How does one even describe true love? Does such a thing truly exist or is it only a thing to be imagined by playwrights and artists? I know not of such love existing in these mortal realms. Would you not agree?”

Joe’s on his feet, scattering his papers to the ground as he rises.

“Ow,” mutters Nicky, rubbing his head where it smacked against the earth. He listens as Joe devolves into a most enthusiastic rant. 

“Agree? Agree?! No, I would not agree. We are here before you, uninhibited in our love for one another. True love is not in silly plays. My love grows more beautiful with every day that I gaze upon his face. He is the light before the sun shines in the morning and a soft glow long before the moon rises at dusk. He sees me and knows me, body and soul, and I shall love him for all time because of it.” Joe throws the dirtiest of looks at William. “Does true love exist. Imbecile.”

“Kiss me, you poetic bastard,” says Nicky, tugging Joe down to him. He uses every bit of skill his lips possess to distract Joe, to thank Joe, until the ringing of the bell for tea distracts them again.

* * *

**2) 1819: France**

Booker is...he’s a lot to take in. They spent so long as two sets of couples, four immortals in the earth, that they’d kind of stopped expecting to find anyone else. Then they’d lost Quynh and they’ve spent the last century mostly trying to find their footing again after decades of disappointment in their search for their lost sister. 

700 years is a long time to get used to and Booker is not a quiet addition to the party.

He’s drunk, constantly, usually on very cheap whiskey. He’s insistent on getting back to his family and none of them really know how to address that. Obviously he can’t just tell people about his new immortality but the rest of them never really had family that mattered like that.

Nicky thinks Quynh would love Booker and put him in line right away.

Andy could, but these days Andy has a tendency to lean into the misery more than try to pull herself out of it. She’s drinking along with Booker now--at least she’s sticking to her preferred Russian vodka, not his swill--and they both look like they’re going to pass out soon.

“I want to hit him,” says Joe quietly to Nicky.

Nicky kisses him and undoes the buttons of Joe’s shirt so they can change into more comfortable options before bed. They’ll be in this cave for a few weeks at least, hiding out while they decide whether to let Booker take his chances with his children or convince him to leave that life behind now rather than later. “Hush,” Nicky says now. “We spent nearly two decades killing each other before we even began to figure out our lives, Booker is allowed a little pain.”

Joe kisses him back and Nicky takes the opportunity to run a finger down Joe’s chest, grinning when Joe shivers a little at his touch.

“So is this a thing?” asks Booker loudly. “Or do you two just get bored a lot?”

Aw fuck, thinks Nicky. This is going to be a problem.

“A thing?” questions Joe indignantly.

Right on cue, smirks Nicky to himself.

Andy’s snickering. 

“The love of my life cannot be reduced to a pastime, a way to pass through the day. He is the reason I look joyfully to what another year can bring. His lips are the sweetest nectar, his gaze penetrates my very soul. When he lifts his voice in song, I am enraptured. I could spend my life doing nothing more than studying his gentleness and consider it time well spent. My Nicky is not a thing or a means to dissuade boredom. He is the reason life has meaning at all.”

Nicky always thinks he couldn’t possibly love Joe any more than he already does and then Joe says things like this and Nicky’s capacity for love expands yet again.

Booker stares at them for a moment. “It was just a question. You two literally fucked last night and we’re hiding out in a cave. Sound carries.” He takes a deep swig off his bottle. “Also do you have any idea how often I had to see the two of you fucking in my dreams in the last seven years? Ridiculous.”

Andy nearly busts a gut laughing. “At least there are trains now. It took the better part of a century for Quynh and me to find these two. You have no idea how many ways Joe’s poetic ass can wax rhapsodic about a cock.”

Nicky ignores them both and simply pulls his love into bed.

* * *

**3) 1241: Siwa, Egypt.**

Their first wedding happens in Egypt. Quynh and Andromache have been fighting the Mongol invasions--a losing battle in Nicolo’s opinion--for the last few years and while they helped for a time, Nicolo and Yusuf need a break from the fighting for a time. 

They find themselves part of a small group in a little oasis sort of village known as Siwa. 

Nicolo has yet to truly grow accustomed to the heat of the desert, even after all of these years, but he must admit, this is the closest place to heaven one will find on this earth. Well, other than in the arms of Yusuf.

Siwa is a welcoming place, with others like them, who love whom they choose with no worry of judgment. 

And well, Nicolo can easily acknowledge that the heat may in fact be considered a dear friend, when it keeps his Yusuf bare and carefree. They won’t be able to stay forever--a decade has proven to be about their limit in an area before they can no longer exist without suspicion--but for now, this is the balm of rest they have needed.

“Yusuf?” asks Nicolo now, bringing water for the both of them. 

“Yes my love?” asks Yusuf in response. His eyes crinkle as he smiles in thanks at the water and he passes Nicolo the plate of fruit. 

Nicolo pauses for a moment to take advantage of the dates. Now that is the food he thinks he will never tire of. Especially when they are so fresh and sticky and Yusuf is likely to take Nicolo’s fingers in his mouth to clean them of the sugary residue. That the rest of their bodies do not stay as clean is not of any great concern.

Yusuf waits patiently, he always seems to enjoy watching Nicolo eat, taking pleasure in Nicolo’s own joy. 

“Will you marry me?”

Yusuf’s jaw drops. This he did not expect. Not in the least. “Marry you?” It is the wrong thing to say, perhaps the wrong tone as well, because Nicolo’s face falls instantly into despair. 

“Oh. Oh, of course. I made assumptions, I should not have…”

Yusuf cuts him off with a swift kiss. “Nicolo. I would marry you a thousand times over. I was just surprised. Your faith remains so important to you. I had considered it would keep us from ever taking such a step.”

Nicolo squeezes Yusuf’s hand tightly. “I know our love cannot be acknowledged or approved of by the Church, though I do not think I wish for such a thing anymore. But I would declare it before God, that He may know that what he has joined together, may never be torn apart.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, but Yusuf feels that Nicolo has more to say, and eventually he nudges at him. “What is it?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you if this is something I want and you do not.”

“I have thought and dreamed of this many times, mio caro,” says Yusuf in response.

Tears well in Nicolo’s eyes. “You thought about marrying me before?”

“For well over a century now, my darling,” says Yusuf. “I have known for many years that were you but to give me cause to say the words, I would vow my life to you and you alone. I would pledge my heart to yours, for it is your heart that taught mine to love. I vow to love you beyond death itself, for death has proven to hold no sway over our bond. I vow that you shall never doubt my love or my loyalty, for I am yours and you are mine, without end or qualification. These are things I have dreamed of saying, were you to ever desire to be mine in every sense of the word.”

Nicolo surges forward to close the few inches of distance between them, his lips desperate and the taste of salty tears mingling on Yusuf’s own lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” says Nicolo. 

Not as much as I love you thinks Yusuf and vows internally to prove this every day for the rest of their lives. 

* * *

**4) 1108: Somewhere post-Crusades**

Yusuf wakes up panting, though for once it’s for an entirely different reason. Usually, he dreams of Nicolo’s sword piercing his heart or lungs or stomach--never his throat--and within a day or so, they will meet again and the dream will become a reality. At this point, it’s starting to be somewhat entertaining more than anything else, but nine years is a long time to kill and be killed by the same man. 

This dream though...this dream is quite different. This one had them in bed, Nicolo wanton and pliant underneath him, Yusuf’s name falling from his lips in supplicant repetition.

He gets little time to dwell on the dream. Nicolo is at the well when Yusuf goes to fetch water, sword drawn and eyes wild. 

“You look bothered today,” says Yusuf in flawless Ligurian. “Something on your mind?”

“Why don’t you ever stay dead?” returns Nicolo in passable Derja. His command of the language has improved significantly since a few years ago when they realized that Nicolo spoke excellent Arabic, just not Yusuf’s dialect.

Sometimes, Yusuf reflects that things such as this, learning one another’s language, is not so normal. 

Even when one considers that they keep killing each other and returning to life. 

“Are you sure nothing else occupies your thoughts?” he asks of Nicolo. “Or perhaps it is not your thoughts that are occupied, but a more external part of you.” He leers boldly and parries against the emotional sweep of Nicolo’s sword. 

“You know naught of which you speak,” snaps Nicolo.

Yusuf thinks for a brief second about what he wants to do, then figures why not? The worst that happens from this is Nicolo kills him and well if you’ve been killed by a repressed Catholic once, you’ve been killed by one a thousand times.

He drops his sword to the ground.

Nicolo stops mid-swing, pulling his assault so he does not strike Yusuf. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“We can keep fighting if you want,” says Yusuf, pulling loose the knot around his belted pants. “Or we can try something new.”

“I don’t...I don’t know what you mean,” stammers Nicolo, though his face is flushed and his eyes follow Yusuf’s fingers. 

Yusuf does nothing more to his clothes. He wishes to extend an invitation. It is up to Nicolo to accept. That does not mean he can’t be persuasive. 

“No?” says Yusuf. ”So it was not you in my dreams this morning, writhing with need, begging me to take my fill of you? It was not you who’s skin glistened with sweat, after what must have been hours of fucking? For surely we would last hours, I have experience with your...stamina, for many years now. It was not you that kisses like an angel and fucks like a devil?” He never looks away from Nicolo as he speaks. “You were beautiful, Nicolo. In my dreams, you were beautiful. Here, in the light of day, you are like the sun breaking through my life’s fog.”

It works, so so well, because he’s barely finishing the words when Nicolo is on his knees, sword forgotten at his side, mouthing desperately at Yusuf’s cock as his hands tug away the clothing blocking his way. 

Nicolo’s mouth is the greatest blessing he has ever known.

Yusuf takes handfuls of Nicolo’s hair and pulls, forcing Nicolo to look up at him. A whine of displeasure falls from Nicolo’s lips as he struggles to get back to sucking Yusuf’s cock. “Look at me,” demands Yusuf. He may not get to look into Nicolo’s eyes in his dreams, but he will absolutely look his fill here. 

He knows he won’t last long at all, not when surrounded by the wet, hot, gorgeous heat that is Nicolo’s mouth. He feels like he’s been waiting years for this, like Nicolo is coming home, and isn’t that a bit of a thing to marvel at later. 

When he comes, he pulls Nicolo up and chases the taste of himself in Nicolo’s mouth. 

Nicolo is like a desperate, needy little thing, grinding almost frantically against Yusuf’s leg until he finds his own release. They kiss for long moments and then Yusuf feels the familiar cold of steel plunging into his stomach. He should be furious, should feel betrayed, but instead, he stabs a dagger through Nicolo’s heart and dies musing on what they might attempt the next time Nicolo feels a need to kill him.

This is going to be fun.

* * *

**5) 1916: France.**

They’re in the trenches in France during what those around them call The Great War. 

Nicky doesn’t have the heart to tell them that there have been many great wars before and man being what he is, there will likely be more to come. Why add disappointment to those who are dying by the thousands in muddy ditches, killed in droves by disease or blown to bits if they’re lucky?

He and Joe are in their tent, with a rare night off duty in the trenches. It’s always risky to be intimate, but Nicky can’t help himself. They’ve never been ones to care to hide their love, but they do try to be aware of the mission and being forced to move on sooner than planned.

Nicky’s desperate though, it’s been a week of death on all sides, no different than most weeks, but they lost some of the friends they’d made in the last year, and even though Nicky knows all will die before he does, it does not lessen the pain. 

He straddles the cot, drags Joe’s pants down to his ankles, and passes his belt back to him so Joe can bite down on the leather and muffle his moans.

When they’re done with this shitty, shitty war, Nicky is going to shuttle them both off to an island somewhere. To a place that doesn’t require the warmth of a dozen layers and raggedy coats, torn to bits by bullets and mortar and sewn back together. To a place where he can get his husband naked, lay his own naked body on him, near him, in him, anything that keeps them bare all day and Joe screaming his name into the night. 

For now, Nicky kisses his way up Joe’s thighs, teasing his path with his fingers and letting his beard burn against Joe’s skin at just the right intervals before he takes Joe in his mouth and Joe’s hands clench in his hair.

They’re interrupted by the sound of a choked off gasp and Nicky just catches a glimpse of a fellow soldier’s face in the dim might. Mathews if he remembers right. The look on the man’s face says he’s going straight to a superior with a report of what he just saw.

It’s...well, Nicky won’t say it’s surprising. Nearly 900 years on the earth and man’s inability to recognize that love comes in many forms rarely changes. But here, at war, this has usually been a somewhat safe space for them. Soldiers are dying by the thousands. Most of the time, if they do ever get a witness, they’re left alone. Why begrudge anyone in these miserable trenches a brief reprieve?

But it is not to be. 

“We could run and fight our way through anyone who tries to stop us,” suggests Nicky.

Joe shakes his head. “No my darling. These men suffer enough. That they lack the understanding of love’s magnitude is not a reason to kill them. Besides, we will live through this just as we live through every moment before, or we will die together and be reunited in the next land of paradise.”

They don’t have many personal effects, but they dress quickly and layer up, knowing they will most likely be shot and need to disappear in the night. Nicky’s barely finished lacing up his boots when their commanding officer comes storming in, several others at his heels to drag them over to today’s shallow gravesite. They had added more bodies at dusk, with no time to bury them, the task to be completed at dawn. 

Nicky and Joe are forced to kneel at the edge so their bodies will fall backward.

“Do you have any last words? The last chance to renounce your sins before God? To repent from a most despicable act?” demands the Colonel.

“Repent?” snaps Joe. “Repent?! I repent of nothing but the failure to satisfy my husband before we were dragged out here. I renounce your hatred, your bigotry, and your small minds. My Nicky is not an act of desperation or a moment of regrettable passion. He is the reason I wake with a smile on my face and contentment in my heart. He is my port in the storm and my shield against the enemy. He is satisfaction in a world of wanting. To love him is to know the full breadth of what God has created love to be. I repent of nothing but wasting these few moments talking to you when I could be gazing at him.”

The Colonel’s response is to fire without warning, a shot into Joe’s head. Nicky flinches at the sound, thinking he never will get used to the dying part, especially when it leaves a few seconds or moments of uncertainty as to what awaits on the other side. His flinch is all the time he gets though, as the next bullet hits him and his body falls back into the shallow grave.

They won’t be buried until the morning--even this was a risky trial to have at night when visibility is low and attacks could be catastrophic--but their supposed sin was too great to let stand. 

Nicky just manages to restrain himself from gasping as he comes back to life. He doesn’t dare risk using words right now, so he ever so slowly reaches one hand out, until his fingers touch Joe’s, and Joe wraps their hands tightly together. In another hour the camp will be asleep. They will slip away in the cover of night, perhaps fight this war on another battlefield, and Nicky will make sure Joe knows exactly how much he loves him. 

* * *

**+1) April 3rd, 2001 Netherlands.**

"Pack your things!” Nicky bursts into the hotel room.

“You got a mission?” asks Booker.

Nicky shakes his head. “Did you see the news?”

“There’s a lot of news out there, Nicky,” says Andy.

Nicky kisses Joe and flings himself to his knees in front of him. “The Netherlands is officially the first country to legalize gay marriage,” he tells Joe (and the others). “So will you marry me?”

Joe kisses him back, caressing his jawline for a moment. “Husband of mine,” he says pointedly. “We have been married for over seven centuries.”

“I married you once in front of God,” explains Nicky. “I want to do it again before the world.”

And well, Joe’s not about to argue with that.

~

Nicky stands in the most beautiful field of flowers and gazes at the love of his life. They have spoken vows once before. Joe told him then that he had known his vows for a century. Nicky’s spent a millennium making sure he lives up to the man Joe believes him to be.

Now they stand here, only two witnesses and a single official, but their names will be forever recorded as belonging to each other after this day. 

They exchange traditional vows first, a moment that thrills Nicky to no end, to repeat these words said by millions before, that now bring he and his love into this same company.

“You may kiss…” begins the officiant.

“Oh! No, no, I’m sorry, not yet,” interrupts Nicky.

Andy snickers.

Joe gives him a confused look, combined with the tiniest bit of a pout that Nicky is holding off kisses.

Nicky puts a gentle finger to Joe’s lips, a promise of more with a plea for a little patience. “Today is not the first day I call you husband, but it is the first day the world recognizes you as such. We are no longer limited to words such as partner or boyfriend, but the beauty of being called husband. I dreamed of you and you made my dreams look like flimsy things, swept away in the dust. I do not fear darkness, for you are my light, my comfort when winter beats at the door. Your touch makes my heart race. And your joy...oh Yusuf, your joy of life and your joy in me give me a capacity for love I did not think any one soul to be capable of. You are my heart, my soul, my husband.”

He gets out no more words. His husband pulls him in, smiles against his lips as they kiss. Their witnesses wipe away tears and Nicky makes a simple wish, for another millennium with his beloved.

**Author's Note:**

> Here have my scribbled notes that started this nonsense.  
> Joe and Nicky end up spending some time with Shakespeare in England. Ol’ Willy is like how does one even describe true love, does it even exist? And Joe’s like DOES IT EXIST, DO WE NOT STAND HERE BEFORE YOU? And then in the end when they see Romeo & Juliet and Tybalt and Mercutio are in the background, a barely hinted at couple, Joe storms out in disgust while Nicky pays for an onstage seat at every single show, boos every time Romeo or Juliet is onstage and pelts Shakespeare with rotten squishy grapes.  
> Nicky gets out a Tunisian version of what the fuck (or at least close to it) you’re gay (in 12th century terminology of course) and Joe rattles off a dirty speech about how much he knows Nicky wants this in nearly flawless Genoese. They totally fuck after because Nicky’s so turned on he doesn’t know what to do with himself but then Nicky still kills Joe afterwards because well. Joe doesn’t mind at all and manages to get Nicky into bed at least every few months--still getting killed afterwards (he usually kills Nicky in return) until around 1117, when Nicky finally asks if they could stop with the fighting and just stick to the fucking, because honestly he’s tired and it’s a lot to clean up blood and come.  
> Joe and Nicky leave their grave in 1916, but Nicky makes sure there are still two bodies there. The officer who shot them and the soldier who betrayed them.  
> Joe’s big speech in the van should be a twist on a speech that Nicky gave to him once, hence yet another reason why Nicky is like you romantic fucking bastard.


End file.
